


Roped in

by Marquis_De_Brade



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Blackmail, Bondage, Bullying, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forced, Gaslighting, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy BDSM, Mental Coercion, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, S&M, Secrets, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Coercion, Shameless Smut, Smut, Time Travel, Time Turner (Harry Potter), Violence, toxic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:01:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28214406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marquis_De_Brade/pseuds/Marquis_De_Brade
Summary: Hermione finds herself at the mercy of Draco, forced into playing his sadomasochistic games under the threat of having her scandalous secrets revealed.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 70
Kudos: 111





	1. Time

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Blackmail, force, non-con, mind games, bullying.
> 
> Blackmail isn't a massive fantasy of mine, but it's an unfulfilled one. Which has made it a small thorn in my side for some time, not being someone who likes an unfulfilled fantasy. (Don't let your filthy dreams be dreams.) But I've never been able to figure out how to make blackmailing a partner into sex a workable idea without it getting either horribly unethical, which I'm not interested in, of course, or without it all being so fake that it becomes uninteresting. So my main aim with this is to explore the idea of blackmail as a realistic fantasy, and see if it helps me figure it out some more.
> 
> ***
> 
> Here's an absolute masterpiece of experimental psychedelic alternative prog-metal, which admittedly isn't everyone's cup of tea, but I don't care. The always wise words of Satan himself puts my thoughts on just how much I don't care better than I could - "I'm the Devil, I love metal. Check this riff, it's fucking tasty." The album Lateralus by Tool - https://open.spotify.com/album/5l5m1hnH4punS1GQXgEi3T 
> 
> ***
> 
> The wonderful smut-loving Charlotte is to blame for me writing this, and she's writing her own too. Check out my bookmarks for Lost in Our Minds, it's going to be better than this one.

Hermione was sitting in her deep and comfy couch at home while reading a book, which is where she often found herself on warm autumn evenings like this one. Or on the cold ones for that matter.

Her living room was tasteful, and practical, and only a little bit cluttered. She'd lit a fire in the fireplace, but only a small one, not needing the warmth this evening, and it mainly being for the relaxing and cozy smell it gave her home.

She felt like she needed all the relaxation she could get these days. Her work life at the Ministry was exhausting. The workload was always more than she could deal with, but because she always _would_ deal with the work that they gave her, they kept giving it to her. It was common knowledge amongst her superiors that she got things done.

Though she'd hate to admit it, the main reason she always managed to get things done was her Time Turner. That fact played on her mind a lot and had done since she first used it.

But she'd justify it by telling herself that even though the Turner was illegal, the work she was doing was important and that she was making a difference, and that work simply wouldn't be getting done if she didn't have its help.

She didn't feel like she had much of a choice in the matter anymore anyway. She'd been using it for so long now that the amount of work she managed to do with its advantage was expected of her, and she'd have no hope of getting it all done without it.

And so she just tried to live with never finding an answer to the question of whether or not it was the right thing to do to use bad means to do good things... And she found she _could_ live with it, and had done for years. She'd be lying if she said the success and acclaim that came with it didn't help with that.

But it did play on her mind constantly. She couldn't even relax at home on a pleasant and quiet Friday evening like this, a whole weekend ahead of her, without it niggling her.

This is nice and relaxing... I need to relax after the week I've had... I couldn't have got that done without the Turner... Should I be using it? Was more or less the thought process that evening, as it was for most of her evenings.

But she could live with that.

It didn't, she always thought, even count as much of a burden to bear, really. It was just her secret. A little piece of grit in the lens of an otherwise happy, fulfilling, peaceful, if a little work-heavy, life. She tried not to think about the ruins that life, which she liked, would be in if her secret ever got out...

That was part of what niggled her. That ever-present little worry of being found out. But she wouldn't have to worry about that after tonight, because it finally happened.

An owl landed on her windowsill holding a letter in its beak. She didn't think much of it, owls came and went fairly regularly in her line of work, until she stood up to take it and saw the crest in the wax seal.

Malfoy..? The last she'd heard of Draco he'd been off partying in Europe for a few years straight, though it was a while ago she'd heard that... She opened it, more than a little confused. Inside was a letter and another smaller envelope.

I know about the Time Turner.  
Meet me at 8.  
D.M.

 _Fuck._ She thought, her heart pumped shards of ice though her whole body, but the odd wave of relief that followed it helped a lot. That constant concern of being caught, gone... But caught like this? By _Malfoy_ of all people... She didn't see _that_ coming.

She turned the smaller envelope over, on the front was scrawled "Portkey" in the same messy handwriting as the letter. She opened it, peered inside carefully, and saw a muggle chess piece. A little white pawn.

She read the letter again, still not feeling like it had sunk in in the slightest. She looked at her clock on the mantelpiece, 6:30, not much time. She read the letter one more time, but that didn't make it feel any more real either.

***

It turned out to be far more than enough time, 8 o'clock coming around much slower than she thought it would.

After dressing and making sure she was at least a little presentable, not having planned to leave the house again for the day, she sat back in her spot on the couch, perched on the edge this time, chewing her lip, and tapping a foot impatiently against the rug.

She didn't know if it was just that it _still_ hadn't sunk in yet, or if it was that she'd been waiting for this day to come for so long that she was just eager to get it over and done with, but either way, she was quite calm about it.

After the initial heart stopping shock, everything became very simple to her, all boiled down to one question... What the hell does Malfoy want?

She mulled over that single question for the better part of the hour she had to wait, while taking it out on the rug with her foot. And the clock wasn't getting off easy either, if looks could kill, it would only be right twice a day.

It seemed to her, and not for the first time, that in one way or another, time was never on her side.

She tried picking her book back up again at one point, just to pass the time, but gave up after all the words she was reading transfigured themselves into that one question in her mind.

But 8 o'clock did clunk around eventually, despite her suspicions, and the second it did she was up on her feet and opening the small envelope she'd been clutching. She hovered her finger over the pawn, closed her eyes and took a quick breath to brace herself, and then poked it. The world lurched, she felt like she was tugged backwards by her belly button while the rest of her fell forwards.

The room she appeared in was warmer than she'd dressed for. She wanted a second, never seeming to have the right amount of them, to take in her new surroundings but the first thing she saw was Malfoy, still as lithe as ever, leaning against the wall with his foot up against it, next to a set of darkly polished wooden double doors, and looking right at her. She didn't waste a moment.

"Look, Malfoy, I don't know what you think you know, or what you plan on doing with that informa..."

"Oh, hey Granger... It really has been a long time, yeah. I'm doing well, thanks, you know, same old same old..." Shaking his head with a look of over the top astonished disappointment. "The bloody manners of you people..."

She rolled her eyes impatiently and sighed while he spoke, but his interruption had given her the moment she needed to take in more of the situation. Her mind was much more drawn to him than the room itself...

She hadn't seen him in years... He looked different, but so familiar at the same time, the boy she'd known and the man he'd become. And though he was still slight and supple, he was very much a man now. He kept his hair differently to what she remembered, it was a little longer now and left shaggy and loose, not quite scruffy but on the verge, still blindingly blond but the Black blood in him making it wavy. Looking at him brought to mind old renaissance sculptures of fallen angels, even down to the almost marble-like paleness of his hair and skin. Le génie du mal popped into her mind and she wondered _very_ briefly if the rest of him was just as white and chiseled under the all-black muggle suit he was wearing...

"Can we just get on with this... What the hell do you want?" She had a lot more questions, but not being one to waste time, she'd skipped all the others and got straight to the main one.

"You haven't seen your old friend in years, and you're _really_ not even going to ask how I am?" He pulled a hand out of his pocket and laid it across his chest, head tilted with mocking false gravity, "I'm hurt, truly."

She took in a little more of the room while he carried on with, what she had decided was, his ridiculous charade. The room they were in wasn't much bigger than her living room, but it was empty, and the lack of any furnishings made it feel bigger. The very dark and very solid wooden floor, without so much as a rug, reminded her of a dance hall, only smaller. The walls were bare, no paintings or decorations, only the dark and delicately patterned wallpaper. A small but elaborate candelabra style chandelier hung above her. And it was all the kind of immaculate that made you worry about how the house elves were treated. This must be The Manor, she thought.

The most striking thing about the room was that it had two carved white stone fireplaces on opposite walls, mirroring each other to her left and right, both exquisitely decorated with carved plants and patterns, and both lit. The glow of two fires from two different directions made the dancing light flicker twice as fast, and gave the room an unnatural and lit-from-below feel.

"What..? We were never _friends_ , Malfoy." Thinking back to how he used to treat her and her real friends when they were all in school making her defensive about him using that word.

"Old friends... Old enemies... Doesn't seem to be much of a difference in the long run, I've found." He seemed to be lost in a thought while he spoke, and while she wondered what he was going on about. He narrowed his eyes, no longer mocking, "Wouldn't it be nice to have a little catch up first?"

She'd have been lying if she'd said it wouldn't, she found herself very curious about this strangely beautiful man in front of her, who she both knew and didn't know... But getting answers was a higher priority, so she just huffed and played along in the hopes of getting some, "Well, I have quite a few more _pressing_ questions at the moment, but _fine_... How are you?" Channeling her inner McGonagall with how primly she asked.

"Hmm... Nah, let's just get straight to business, shall we?" His smirk grew as he replied, as if he knew precisely just how irritating what he was in the middle of saying was going to be once he'd finished saying it.

 _Oh_ he's in _fur_ iating... She thought. How is he even _more_ annoying as an adult? She was about to ask him as much, but just as she was going to, he stepped away from the wall and the movement distracted her. The way he moved so slowly, with such an easy grace... It made her feel, all of a sudden, like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

"So..." He continued, savouring each hissed word, "You've been using an illegal Time Turner to do official Ministry work. That's quite a serious crime, Granger... Possibly even Azkaban time for that... Scandalous." He hardly seemed to be paying attention to her, looking down at his own shining black shoes, as he wandered in her general direction.

"Look, I only use it _occasionally_ , and _only_ for things that are really importa..."

"I _really_ don't care." Interrupting her again, as if what he was saying was painfully obvious, "I'm sure you've got very good reasons, but don't bore me with them... Whatever helps you sleep at night... I'm not interested."

"What _are_ you interested in, then?" Hoping a less direct route might get her an answer to her question.

"What keeps you _up_ at night..." He looked up at her then, still smirking, with a mischief in his eyes that gave her a twang of anxiety in her stomach... "But no, you really don't need to justify your actions to me, I don't even see what's so wrong about using a Time Turner, to be honest. If anything, I actually quite enjoy the audacity of what you've been up to. Breaking the law to enforce the law, it's a bold move. Good on you, I say."

Wanting to change _that_ topic quickly, not wanting to think about her guilty decisions having _Malfoy's_ approval... And since she clearly wasn't going to get a straight answer to her question, she tried a different one. "Well, how did you find out?"

"Friends in low places... If you get your _illegal_ Time Turners from disreputable sources, then disreputable people..." Motioning to himself with a wave of his hand that was then returned to a pocket, "Might find out. Unfortunately for you, I also have friends in _high_ places. And the _Golden Girl who gets it done_ is quite the little legend amongst the Ministry big boys."

He had wandered past her as he spoke, apparently just following his shoes, and she'd had to turn on the spot or he'd have been behind her and out of sight, which she didn't quite like the idea of. She could see the wall that was behind her now though, most of which was taken up by heavy looking embroidered curtains, drawn closed. Deep burgundy velvet, almost black and glittering in the weird duel glow of the twin fires.

He was heading towards the window as he continued, "It didn't take much to piece it together. Didn't take anything at all, really. It pieced itself together and threw itself in my lap."

"So what do you plan on doing with it?" A little annoyed at her deepest secret being so lazily discovered, "I'm assuming blackmail under the circumstances... I know you've spent a lot of time in Europe, are you an agent for one of the powers there? Are you trying to get Ministry secrets from me? Because I'll _never_ betray th..."

"Ugh... Nothing so gaudy. And don't be so dull." His scoff interrupted her this time. He sounded insulted, and spitefully sarcastic. "Ministry secrets? European powers? I don't know what kind of _trashy little_ spy novella you think you're in, Granger, but you're not in the library now." His tone softened and he turned to face her, framed by the wall of glimmering velvet. "Or at least, you've guessed the wrong _trashy little_ genre..."

"What then? What the hell do you want?" Raising her voice a little, irritated from guessing the answer incorrectly, having that pointed out, and _still_ not being given the correct one. But he just looked pleased with himself at her raised voice, which was not the reaction she was expecting. He's just trying to get a rise out of me, she thought, sulkily. Well... He got what he wanted then.

He laughed, "Well, it's not politics, I can tell you that. Although now you mention it... Espionage, sabotage... I can definitely see the appeal. But no, political power plays aren't for me. _Personal_ power plays, on the other hand, are very much my thing. And that's what this is. You can take all of this _very_ personally..."

"What did _I_ do?" Now bewildered on top of irritated, "I haven't even _seen_ you in years... Why _me?_ "

"Just lucky, I guess." His smirk got even more smackable. "It's a very simple power play really. If I don't get what I want from you, then I'll go to the Prophet with your little secret. Or I might not. Depends on whether or not I can be bothered to, to be honest... And I _will_ be honest. I might mess with your head a little, but I've got no reason to lie to you."

His skirting around was becoming maddening, "Just _tell_ me," Her voice just under a shout, "What the _hell_ do..."

"Oh, do _shut up,_ Granger," Matching her volume this time, talking over her, yet again. " _Clearly_ you're going to get an answer, and _clearly_ I have a few things to say before I give it to you... So just try exercising a little patience, yeah?" She baulked at the unexpected scolding, but he continued at his usual calmer and still self-satisfied level, "I shouldn't expect any better from you, I suppose, patience is _clearly_ not a strong suit... I mean, you _are_ willing to break the law out of _im_ patience, after all."

A pang of guilt struck her with the truth of what he'd said, she couldn't argue with that. Not that he gave her a chance to, he carried on, "Luckily for me, patience isn't one of the virtues I require for what I have in mind."

He started walking directly at her, faster than he'd moved before but no less elegantly, and didn't stop talking, relishing every word, "No... I need someone with a very specific combination of attributes. I need someone smart... Someone seductive... Someone with a _secret_..."

The suddenness of his approach and his shift in tone, on top of trying to absorb everything he just said, took her completely off guard, and she staggered back a half step as he quickly closed the distance. Close enough to pass her another little envelope which she took without thinking. Close enough for her to see the firelight dancing in his eyes, a different fire in each one...

"And I'm rather afraid that makes you perfectly qualified... So what I _want_ , Granger, is _you_... For one night. Anything I _want_ , for one night. Tomorrow night. _Or_ , you can just say the word 'Prophet' if you decide, at any time, that you'd rather toss the coin on whether or not I can be bothered to ruin your life."

Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped with the realisation, "You... You're blackmailing me for... _sex?_ You can't be serious, Malfoy... Are you _fucking crazy?_ "

"They're both return trips." He said looking down at the envelopes she was holding, apparently taking her new questions as rhetorical, "And it seems a little unfair to not warn you about the... _unusual_ things you'll be in for, so the new portkey is a clue. Same time tomorrow then, Granger." He leaned in and spoke quietly, "Or not... that's up to you."

And with that, he apperated away.

She looked down at the two little envelopes in each hand, suddenly alone with her own stunned silence, dazed while it all slowly sank in.

The new envelope wasn't sealed so she tilted it to get a look at the clue. It was a short length of leather cord, tied into a simple but beautiful knot, like a little black flower. She didn't even try to figure it out, already having far too much to take in and figure out, and, as ever, not enough time to do it.

His unexpected disappearance, the one somewhat familiar thing in the room now gone, made her really feel just how unfamiliar her surroundings were... She wanted to get out of there, quickly, and that shook her out of her shock a little. She needed to leave, she needed to _think_... She reached a finger into her first envelope to touch the little white pawn.

" _What the fuck..._ " She murmured and disappeared too.


	2. Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione prepares herself.

Once she saw that she'd reappeared at home in the same place that she'd left, she let her knees buckle and sagged back into her couch.

As she was slumped there, still stunned at what had just happened, staring blankly at the yellow-painted wall above the fireplace, her eyes wandered down to the clock on the mantelpiece. Quarter past 8.

That was quick, she thought, only took him 15 minutes to flip my life upside down... Her eyes dropped down lower again, to the fire that she'd left lit, and that was still gently crackling away.

It hadn't even sunk in properly yet that she'd been caught at all, that alone was still raw, but then to have her freshly uncovered secret immediately used against her... by her own old school bully... for _sex_. It was simply too much to take in all in one go like this. None of it felt real, still. How could this really be happening, because who would do such a thing..?

_Malfoy_... That's who. If their brief meeting was anything to go by, then he was even more despicable, hateful, and cruel than he was as a boy, and she could add perverted to the list now too.

He's still a bastard, she thought, he's just smarter about it now. Using that information against me at all is bad enough, but to use it for... _that._ How dare he... I'm a renowned woman, with a certain amount of well earned authority and respect, and with no small amount of political power too... There are so many _other things_ that someone in my position could be blackmailed for. But instead, he chooses to reduce me to something to use for sex... _How fucking dare he_.

She started running though all those _other things_ she might be able to offer up in exchange for keeping her secret. Things that weren't her own body to be used. Dredging up every little piece of information that might be useful or of interest to a person like him, and she came up with a surprising amount. Not least of which were the secrets of other people since he, apparently, liked secrets. Including a few very private pieces of information, that she'd come across over the years, about people even higher up than her in the Ministry. Possibly very compromising information.

A little stab of guilt came with the thought of throwing other people to the wolves like that... _The_ wolf. But, she decided, she was only being pragmatic, it was just a comprehensive list of all the available options she had on hand to get out of this situation, even the options she'd never sink so low as to take.

But even if she did sink that low, she realised, it wouldn't work. Everything she might have to offer, all of it, in one way or another, had something to do with the Ministry. With her life being so work-oriented, and with that being the primary source of her influence these days, that was all she had that could possibly equal her own secret's value to Malfoy. And he'd already roundly rejected anything of that nature, to the point of ridiculing her for even suggesting it.

After searching so thoroughly for something else, anything else, and finding she had nothing of any value, gave her a very tangible sense of worthlessness, and the hopelessness of the situation nearly made her cry.

What's the point? She thought, maybe that's all I really am good for, after all. I mean, I don't seem to have anything else he might want. I've got Ministry intelligence, or my body, and that's it, apparently... Is that really _all_ I am, work or sex... Am I really that tragic? Well, what does it matter anyway, he doesn't want Ministry information. So I've only got one thing he wants...

But being so quick-witted, she managed to mentally step back, look at those feelings objectively and swiftly correct herself. Just because he didn't want anything other than sex that didn't mean that sex was all the value she had. His desires weren't a measure of her worth.

There's so much more to me, she reassured herself, and the fact that _that's_ all he wants from me... that's on him, not me.

The thought gave her a little of her hope back, and also led her to think about what that fact implied about him.

She came to the conclusion that if one night with him was all he wanted, then not only was he an idiot for not taking even more of an advantage, since she had so much more that could be taken, but that, really, it was a small price to pay to keep her secret, when compared to all the other prices she'd just been thinking up, all of which involved divulging other information. This way, at least, she didn't have to betray anyone else, or be a traitor to the Ministry.

This left her with only two options. One night with an admittedly very attractive man, or run the risk of her life as she knew it being completely destroyed... It wasn't really a hard choice to make when she looked at it like that.

That's that then, she resigned herself with a sigh. Only one thing for it, I suppose... Lie back and think of England.

Well, that was quick too... She thought for the second time since arriving home, realising she'd just managed to stomp her way through every single one of the stages of grief, with nothing but sheer bloody-minded over-thinking, and all in... Her eyes lifted back up to the clock from the fire she'd been staring into... Just over 10 minutes.

Mrs. Kübler-Ross would be proud, she thought, trying and failing to tuck a curl behind her ear in triumph, very satisfied with her own efficiency. And even more pleased with herself that it took her less time to straighten her feathers than the 15 minutes it took for him to ruffle them.

Actually, she reconsidered. Under the circumstances, she probably wouldn't be proud.

It did cross her mind, as she stood up to go and make the cup of tea she suddenly desperately needed, that it really was a worryingly fast turn around... But she didn't want to think about all the awful implications of _why_ she might be so quick to accept the prospect of spending a night with Malfoy. And she, thankfully, found the call of the kettle to be a sufficient distraction from that line of thought.

***

She found herself in the same spot on the couch the next night, at more or less the same time as the night before, again bothering the rug and frightening the clock, and again, an hour early.

The library where she'd spent the day closed at 6, and by the time she'd got home, thought about and decided against a meal, and showered and dressed, an hour had passed by.

Showering took a little longer than it usually would, she wanted to make sure she was properly groomed for the night ahead of her. But getting dressed took a _lot_ longer than it usually did, due to her thoroughly over-thinking what she should and shouldn't wear... What exactly _are_ the appropriate shoes to wear when one is being blackmailed into sex? For example.

One of the books she'd been reading that morning had some suggestions for what to wear while being tied up. Either very loose or very tight clothes were recommended, or none whatsoever.

She opted for the former with her top, a loose fitting white blouse, not wanting to _encourage_ him with something close fitting. She used the same reasoning for her underwear, deciding against any of her more revealing or lacy options, not wanting to give him the wrong idea, and instead going for the plainest set she had. And the black skirt just seemed sensible, considering. Especially since the one she'd picked had a pocket to put her wand in.

The reason she'd been reading a book about being tied up, as well as a small pile of other books on similar topics, was that she'd figured out her clue the night before. She'd allowed herself that one little puzzle with her cup of tea before getting a responsibly early night and a good night's rest.

Black leather, knot-work, ' _unusual_ things'... He's kinky. So far, so obvious. She wasn't naive or prudish, she'd read her fair share of smut in her time, as she'd read her fair share of most things, so she recognised the clue for what it was as soon as she put her mind to it. She'd never, however, been faced with _that sort of thing_ in her real-life experiences.

Not that she didn't have _any_ experiences. She'd had a number of what turned out to be mostly short-lived flings after things ended with Ron in such a strange way. Never finding much that really held her interest for very long, not that she'd looked very hard. She'd even had a few one night stands too, but all those encounters were in the past, back before her work had started to take all of her time and energy. Which she didn't mind, she liked to be work-focused and independent so, naturally, she was happy enough to remain single, for now at least. She put her current lack of effort into pursuing anything down to that. That, and being satisfied enough to remedy the dry spell with her _other_ magic wand.

But her lack of any practical hands-on experience with anything particularly kinky, beyond a little rough sex, and with a practical hands-on experience worryingly imminent, gave her the very urgent desire to get some serious reading-up done. As did the fact that all the information she currently had on the topic was mostly from her smutty novels, which were usually, understandably, less than realistic. 

She needed solid answers, but what little information she did have to go on was enough of a head-start to know the right questions to ask. Having always been good at finding answers in libraries, she planned to head to one the next morning. A muggle one, with a _very_ quiet corner. And a computer. That she could regularly delete the search history of. Just in case.

But the morning of reading she'd planned for turned into more than a whole day of reading, because what she discovered fascinated her. She'd never heard of a BDSM community, but what she found out about it intrigued her on a number of levels.

Some of the things they were getting up to seemed like a lot of fun, other things... quite horrifying. But that was fine, not everything is for everyone, which was part of the general ethos of all the books she was reading. That, as long as you're ethical about it, it's not only fine to be yourself, no matter how strange you are, but it's actually a very good thing. She found that idea very compelling and empowering.

The secrecy, or rather, privacy of the community reminded her a lot of the wizarding worlds Statue of Secrecy, so she could very much empathise with them on that level, already being part of a sub-culture herself, in a way.

But what really captivated her was how they seemed to be, at least to her, making a science out of pleasure, an empirical discipline of hedonism itself, an area of study she'd never come across before. Or at least it seemed to have all the same familiar structures of an area of study, and that alone was incredibly engaging to the academic in her. All the categories, and sub-categories, and nomenclatures, and systems, and procedures... On and on she read, completely in her element.

A lot of what she read also had an ethical and philosophical side to it, which she enjoyed too, not just answering questions of _how_ , but _why_. And _all_ of it, of course, had a very exciting and deeply sexual undercurrent to it too... She was absolutely engrossed in all kinds of ways.

After her general, but thorough, overview of the topic, she was much more informed and able to narrow her questions down to the specifics that she thought she needed to know more about. Bondage, and more specifically rope bondage, blackmail as a fetish, power dynamics, and mind games, were the main ones. And she was pleasantly surprised to find in depth information on the lot.

One of the websites with articles on power dynamic relationships, which was just as rapidly removed from the browser history as the rest of them despite how tame it was, briefly alluded to chess at one point, which caught her attention because of the first portkey pawn. Since she was never very good at the game, she added a book on the strategy of chess to the list too.

She had her nose buried in a book on shibari, Japanese rope bondage, head cocked to the side to better admire the intricate knot-work in one of the pictures. It really was an art form, she thought, as the same book claimed it was. But she snapped the book shut and slammed it on the desk, face down, as someone approached. They politely informed her that the library was closing, while she tried her best to look as if her heart hadn't just jumped into her throat.

She might have been more annoyed at running out of time if she hadn't been so used to it happening all the time. And if she didn't have the Time Turner hanging around her neck which she'd already used earlier to get a couple more hours of reading in.

All the way home and the whole time she was getting ready, her mind was swimming in all the new concepts and new perspectives she'd spent all day learning about. And how she was actually kind of curious to explore some of those things herself.

Tonight might have been an interesting opportunity to do that... If it wasn't for the blackmail. Having her consent coerced like that just felt so... wrong. And everything she'd read that day only made that feeling more acute. The people writing all the books she'd been reading, the community, would definitely not approve of what he was doing. Even when consent was the focus of play, like when playing with non-consent, which she'd found to be a particularly interesting idea, consent was still extremely important. It was _always_ rule one, no matter what.

He wasn't so much breaking every rule in the book, as he was breaking _the_ rule of _every_ book. The question was, why?

That was the question she mulled over while she had to wait this time, perching on the edge of her couch, dressed to unimpress.

Luckily, unlike the previous night's wait, she was able to pass the time with her book without all the words turning into the question playing on her mind, because this time her book had pictures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)  
> Chapter 3 will hopefully be finished a bit quicker.


	3. Focus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione plays along.

She appeared in the same spot of the same strangely lit room as the night before. The nausea of all the recent portkey travel, on top of her nervousness, caught up with her this time and she had to take a second to steady herself.

He was leaning against the wall by the double doors, just as he was the night before. His smug look took her focus off the nausea and on to him.

He didn't say anything as he tossed a coil of rope into the middle of the room on the floor between them, with, what she imagined as, all the calm intent of someone making the first move in a game of chess. It was black and shiny, and looked like it was made out of something soft and heavy by the way it landed. More than a small part of her was pleased with herself at the confirmation that she'd worked out his clue correctly.

Feeling a little victorious, she was about to blurt out a snarky know-it-all remark just to annoy him, something about it being white that traditionally has the first move in chess, but the rope on the floor had grabbed her attention, so she didn't. She leaned forward for a closer look, it was finely braided leather, the braids made it look like it had tiny scales. There was something _off_ about it, something dangerous. She couldn't quite put her finger on what exactly it was, but it was unlike any of the ropes she'd seen in her books.

It's almost certainly enchanted, she thought, but in what way? What does it do? How does it work? She looked back up to him and was about to ask him her questions, curiosity getting the better of her.

But his lopsided smirk immediately snapped her back into the situation, and made her embarrassed at being so easily and quickly distracted by something as simple as a piece of rope.

But it wasn't so simple, she realised, it's purpose was obvious given the circumstances. Her mind running through all the colourful little books she'd been reading that day, and to all the purposes she'd discovered in them that a simple piece rope might have to a pervert like Malfoy... They weren't so simple at all.

He must know that I know what that's for, she thought, the thought making her embarrassment dial itself up a notch.

His glare made her feel like he was seeing right through her, like he could hear every thought, and they were at this point all very colourful little thoughts from her colourful little books that she didn't want _anyone_ seeing, let alone Malfoy... Her cheeks flushed, but the Gryffindor in her kept her chin arrogantly high.

I'm smarter than him, she thought, and his stupid clues, so I know where this is going and what he's planning with... _that._ And he knows I know, but I know that he knows that I know... This really is like chess... And it's my move. Get your head in the game, Hermione. I need information, why is he doing all this, and what _exactly_ am I in for tonight... Maybe if I goad him...

"Bondage? Really?" She asked, crossing her arms with as much contempt and derision as she could summon, and she found that in a situation like this, she could summon quite a bit.

Hearing the word come out of her own mouth for the first time made her mind fly through all the pictures of people bound up in ropes that she'd only just been looking at while she waited for 8. She imagined herself in their positions, knowing she was soon going to find herself in a similar position of her own, tied up just like them... By this man... With _that_ rope. It was all starting to feel very real to her now. She shifted her stance a fraction and tensed her thighs in a vain attempt to quieten the building pressure between her hips that those thoughts had caused.

His eyes flicked down to her legs the instant they moved, and she didn't know if it was from the movement itself, or from the embarrassment of him clearly seeing it that caused it, but either way, his cat-who-got-the-cream grin only grew bigger.

"Really."

It sounded to her like his drawling sarcasm wasn't the only thing that made the way he said the word sound slower than it should, there was definitely something else behind it too, but what? Yet another thing she couldn't quite put her finger on. It gave her goosebumps whatever it was, but she quickly got back to her plan.

"So what is it? Makes you feel like a big man tying up girls, does it? A little power trip to stroke your ego?" His single huff of a smug laugh practically cut her off.

"Clumsy, Granger, very clumsy." He said, stepping away from the wall in the same horribly distracting way he did the night before, walking towards her while he spoke. He took a position mirroring her own, the rope in the centre of the floor between them, the two fires either side.

"Clearly you haven't done this before," He said motioning between them with a pale hand, his eyes narrowing and his brows furrowing into a look of open pity. "So I'll save you the bother of trying to _antagonise me into revealing my motives._ " His mock-stupid voice was so childishly infuriating that it took her a second of consciously refusing to rise to it before realising how taken aback she was. How many steps ahead of me is he? "And I'll save myself the rigmarole of being subjected to your fumbling attempts at basic mind games... That is assuming you've moved on from your incessant 'what does he want' to 'why does he want it'?"

"Well... Yes, actually." She admitted, thrown off guard, feeling even more transparent and far too many steps behind.

"Very good... You can see now why I need someone smart." She nearly thanked him for the compliment before catching herself, stumbling over her own thoughts a little, but he continued before she could regain her footing.

"But I don't have anything to hide, Granger, least of all from the likes of you. You don't have to try and trick answers out of me. I don't care what you do or don't know about me, including why I'm doing this, it makes no difference to me. It might surprise someone like you to hear this, but I'm not ashamed of what I am... A pervert, a degenerate, a deviant, call it what you like... The opposite, really, I take pride in what I do and in how well I do it. And there's not much about it I don't do well... I've indulged myself in practically every way I can find, more ways than you've even read about. And I'm going to take a wild stab in the dark here and assume you've very recently been reading about quite few of them..."

His lips curled knowing he'd hit his mark at the sight of her freshly flushing cheeks. He leaned forward like a friend telling a secret, his voice mocking and a little quieter "I'll give you some recommendations when we're done here."

"So, bondage _and_ a book club... How fun." Her words dripped with sarcasm, and she was pleased with herself at how quick her come back was. But her mind drifted away at the thought of how that might actually be quite fun come to think of it... And that thought made the pressure up above her thighs distractingly warmer. Head in the game, Hermione, chiding herself again, I've been on the back foot constantly with this bastard so far... I need to find an opening to attack back... Focus.

But his gentle, genuine, and aristocratically attractive laugh was such a jarring shift in tone that it threw her freshly gathered focus straight out the window.

"Yeah... Could be." He said wistfully while eyeing her up and down slowly. She wilted a little, her crossed arms moving up slightly to a more protective position from an instinctual fear of the unknown, gentle and wistful definitely counting as unknown when coming from him.

His eyes were so much softer than she'd ever seen them before, his mouth definitely smiling and not smirking, for once. It was unnerving. He seemed quite content to let them stand in the pause, while he stared at her and let her mind race.

Is this some new angle of attack? She thought suspiciously. What's with all the sudden huge changes in his manner? Domineering and vicious one minute, and then happy the next... No, not happy, what the hell _is_ that look? Respect? Admiration? Love? Wait, he can't be... Can he? Is that why he's doing all this? Is that what this is all about? Does he have feelings for me...

"Are... Do you have feelings for..." She started, and quickly realised, but not quite quickly enough, that she shouldn't have.

"Get over yourself, Granger," He interrupted her with a scoff, his harsh tone back even more vicious than before, along with the sharp, nothing-but-trouble look in his eyes. "I don't love you."

"Well, what a relief." She spat back honestly, even though the bluntness of his words stung a little. The contradicting feelings of something being both a sting and a relief only adding another thick layer to her confusion. With already so many things to pick apart and make sense of, she didn't need figuring out why it hurt to hear him say he didn't have feelings for her added on top of them.

It was starting to feel like he was just toying with her, pushing her this way and that, to keep her off balance and unable to keep up with her own feelings. She tried to list the slew of emotions he'd already made her feel in the very short time she'd been there, to try to make sense of it all and get some balance back... Focused, intrigued, distracted, embarrassed, thoughtful, transparent, victorious, arrogant, insulted, contemptuous, confused, over-powered, grateful, unnerved, suspicious, humiliated...

But she gave up... It was just one feeling after another, all coming far too fast and there being far too many of them, to pick apart and make sense of. He was mentally and emotionally throwing her around like a rag-doll. She was quickly becoming flustered by it all, and the effect it was all having on the pressure below her navel wasn't helping her composure in the slightest.

He's playing me like a fucking fiddle... She thought, feeling sorry for herself now too. But having given up on trying to make sense of what he was doing, no longer getting bogged down in the apparent complexity of it and just going along with it instead, didn't give her any peace of mind, but it did give her some clarity of mind.

He sighed. "Since you seem to be having such a hard time keeping up, which is beginning to become tedious to say the least, I'll make it simple for you... What exactly do you want to know? Like I said, I've got nothing to hide, just ask, I'll tell you." His tone had softened again, and the fact that his offer didn't seem like a trap made it _feel_ even more like a trap, which made her hesitate. She hated that he'd made her start questioning herself like that.

"I'd like to know _exactly_ what you plan on doing with me tonight, that seems like the most pressing question right now, but..." She paused, her eyes dropped to the rope on the floor... It really was feeling like the more important question to her.

She thought back to one of the mind game strategies she'd read about earlier, one that she thought, and hoped, that she might be able to use. If she could mentally step outside of the situation, gently and subtly bring him along with her, make him see the obvious faults with what he was doing but, importantly, from that less involved perspective, then maybe, if she was careful and clever, she could talk her way out of this. Talk him out of doing this...

"I'd also like to know why you're doing all of this. I don't have much of a choice but to go along with it all... But this is crazy, Malfoy... And we should talk about that."

After a moment he nodded, and with none of the usual cruelty in his voice, "Very well, let's talk then. Take a seat."

He absent-mindedly conjured two very large dark-green leather wingback chairs while already bending to sit in the one that appeared beneath him, the other materialising behind her. She sat down, and it felt odd to be sat directly opposite someone in an otherwise empty room, as did the lack of either a book or a desk while she was seated, it felt alien. She didn't know what to do with her hands, so she just obstinately kept her arms crossed, and crossed one leg over the other to match. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at her.

"As to what exactly I'm going to do to you, I'm afraid I don't have much of an answer for you, because I don't have much of a plan. I'm competent enough to improvise. But it'll involve tying you down and fucking you." The matter-of-fact way he said it made something under her skirt twitch against the still cold seat, she tried to ignore it. She still didn't trust the abrupt lack of viciousness in his manner, and she needed to quietly keep her mind on her strategy, so she tried to focus on those things instead of the appalling meaning of that single little twitch.

"Why I'm doing this is a bit of a bigger question, even though the answers painfully simple, really. The short answer is boredom. But the longer answer..." He sat back in his chair, leaning to one side, his elbow on one of the thick arm rests. He turned away from her to stare into one of the fires, obviously giving his answer some thought. She didn't want to break his stride by saying anything, so she let the pause be a pause. She wanted to see what she might learn by letting him go on, her curiosity getting the better of her, again.

"Whatever else you might think of me, Granger, I know you don't think I'm stupid. I'm very well aware of my privileged position. I've been given everything anyone could want, from day one. Power, wealth, a degree of fame that comes with the name..." She thought, a little sadly at what that implied about him, that those things weren't 'everything anyone could want', they weren't the first things she'd choose to be given.

"Anyone would say it's an ideal position to find yourself in, and I can't say I disagree, it definitely has its perks. But what most people don't consider is what comes next. That next step is where I find myself. If you've already been given everything you could want, then there's nothing left to get... Nothing to aim for, or achieve, no goals... But not only that, if you're given everything you could want, it also has an effect on _what_ you want. It makes you want what you can't have, purely because you can't have it. It makes you want the things you shouldn't want, because you've already got everything else."

He looked depressed, still as a statue and staring into the flames. A beautifully tragic expression on his face, she thought.

"But the main problem is the boredom that then comes with all the things you've been given and _should_ want. It's incredibly boring to find that you've already won the game, and if you're someone with ambition and a desire for victory, like I am, then it eventually becomes quite painful. I've never once in my life achieved an ambition, or won a victory that wasn't ruined... Ruined by how hollow it was made by a position I didn't earn... I've been called spoiled my whole life, but it really is the exact right word. Everything you do gets spoiled in a position like mine. If you're given the Quidditch Cup before you've even picked up a broom, then the opportunity to _win_ it is taken away from you, and then it doesn't matter how much you love to play, the game is... spoiled."

He paused again, and seemed to be lost in an unpleasant thought. The way he was speaking, and the way he hadn't been focused on her for the first time that night, made her feel that these must be, usually, very private thoughts.

She still didn't want to interrupt him. It felt like he'd opened a door for her to peek through, just a crack, onto his inner-self, and one wrong word might make him slam the door in her face, and she was too intrigued by what she was seeing to want to risk that. She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding, the quiet noise of it was enough to make him turn and focus on her again.

"Let me put it in a way you'll understand, Granger," The edge of his voice a little sharper again. "If you were _given_ the last chapter of every book you ever picked up, every story _spoiled_... Trust me, even you'd get bored of reading eventually." She'd have been reluctant to admit how much that made sense to her, but it did. She understood what he was saying, but with that understanding came a suspicion.

This is all just another move, isn't it? Trying to make me feel sorry for him in the hopes that I'll just go along with all this... She thought, suddenly furious at the idea of him using such a pathetically low tactic. If he thinks I'm stupid enough...

"If you think I'm stupid enough to fall for that sob story, you've got another thing coming!" She lashed out without thinking, finishing her thought out loud. "Poor little rich boy, my heart bleeds... But what the fuck does any of that have to do with me? With... _this?_ " Angrily motioning to the rope still threatening her on the floor, and the room in general.

He laughed at her again, but this time it was bitter and brittle.

"Think what you like, everything I said is true." A calm reaction wasn't what she expected. The calmness of it was apparently infectious and it quelled her anger. He wasn't going to fight fire with fire, clearly, so she just sat back and recrossed her arms, frustrated at how it felt like they were back to stage one, and worried that she might have wrecked her strategy with her outburst. Be careful, Hermione, be clever...

"You didn't answer my question. You said you have nothing to hide from the likes of me..."

"So I did. I'll just put two and two together for you then, shall I." It was almost comforting to hear the spite back in his voice, it was more familiar ground at least.

"Being _given_ everything I want has, for better or worse, always been a major part of my sex life too. Being rich, famous, and good looking..."

"And oh-so humble." She interrupted, rolling her eyes.

The venomously angry look he shot at her reminded her so much of his father. It made her realise that he looked quiet a lot like Lucius these days, and how that wasn't such a bad thing...

She didn't know if it was from what he'd just said and done bringing his attractiveness to the forefront of her attention, the heady satisfaction of finally landing a blow, however small, that seemed to affect him, or the way he looked down his nose at her like he despised her in that moment that caused it, but the pressure down between her hips, that had been slowly dissipating without her noticing, came flooding back even worse than before. Being seated made it hard to ignore.

She shifted her position automatically to try and help quieten it, and regretted it as his eyes flicked down immediately, yet again, irritated at herself for not having learnt from the first time. Her humiliation rose up to warm her cheeks into a blush, but it also sank downwards to further heat the warm wetness she could now clearly feel against herself in the chair. She felt absolutely betrayed by it...

The disdain on his face changed into a knowing sneer, and he continued as if she hadn't interrupted him.

"Being in my _position,_ " Making a point of changing his words this time, "I have witches, and wizards, tripping over themselves to give me anything I want in the bedroom, and I've grown so tired of it, even begun to resent it... I've had them in every way you can imagine, trying it all, looking for something, anything, that satisfied me. I found a few things over the years that I like a lot, but as ever, the satisfaction is always hollow and spoiled..." He looked down to the rope on the floor, and he was getting more and more agitated as he went on.

"It took me a while, but I realised that it was just a part of the same old problem that plagues a privileged position. The problem isn't that I don't know what I want, I know very well _what_ I want, the problem is in _how_ I get it. I don't want to be _given_ it like everything else in my life. I want to _take_ it..."

She flinched at the way he over enunciated the last few words, and the way he looked back up at her as he said them, felt like a blow to the head. Yet another jarring seismic shift in his tone, this time shifting into something as horrifying as what he had just said.

"You... You _want_ to force yourself on me? The force isn't means to an end, it _is_ the end itself? _That's_ the point of all this?" She could feel, practically physically, the need radiating out of him from across the room, thickening the air between them. The new unrestrained hunger in eyes was making every alarm in her mind go off at once.

"It's not like that, I'm not going to force myself on you... I've had to be _smarter_ to get what I want... I'm _better_ than to behave like that." He sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her. The thought of being squarely at the centre of attention to the kind of mad craving she was seeing in his eyes, as well as knowing that she was completely at the mercy of this suddenly starving monster for the very immediate future, made her stomach tremble and churn. The edges of her vision were getting blurry, she tried to blink it away, but it didn't work.

She felt like it was now or never for her to try and change his mind, maybe she could just jump to the last stage of her strategy, it was urgent now, she _had_ to try and make him see...

"But don't you see? There's no difference, Malfoy. Forcing yourself physically, or forcing my consent like this, it's still _force._ It's just as non-consensual and unethical either way, it's just the same, there's no difference..." She could hear the shrill edge of desperation in her own voice. She tried to steady her breathing but it felt like all the oxygen had been burnt out of the room.

He looked like he was thinking about what she'd said, but she couldn't hold the gaze of eyes looking at her like that, there was nothing in her books about that look. Her eyes dropped to the floor just in front of her but she could still feel his on her. It felt like all the pretence in him had melted away and all that was left looking at her was the roaring lust in him, roaring directly at her. Inescapable and intoxicating.

"Maybe you're right." He said quietly, "Why not just take it the easy way... Maybe I should just force myself on you..."

She couldn't believe how catastrophically badly her strategy had just backfired, sat there petrified, heart hammering, not knowing what she could possibly say to save herself any more.

It was feeling like a panic attack, but any thoughts she was going to have about that were cut short when he stood up.

The sudden movement after what he'd just said, and after so much stillness, sent a shock wave through her, straight down her spine to every part of her, and it lingered between her legs. Everything seemed to be heading in that direction, and so was he.

She shrank back into her chair, her mind howling danger, still too afraid to meet his eyes. He was coming straight at her with all the grace and dread of his namesake.

There weren't many steps between them, and he'd already stepped over the rope half way before her mind could react, reduced, as it was, to animal instincts. Fight or flight... With nowhere to run. She fumbled for her wand but it was barely out of her pocket when...

"Expelliarmus."

It was pulled out of her grip, rattling against the floor, wood on wood. Another clattering followed it, he'd thrown his wand down next to hers. It was such a confusing thing for him to do, but she was still in survival mode and incapable of any thought beyond fight, flight, or _freeze_. She was out of options...

She cradled her stomach and leaned as far forward in her chair as she could. She planted her feet down as firmly as she could. And she squeezed her eyes shut as hard as she could... Bracing herself for any number of the hundred awful things that were about to hit her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)  
> Chapter 4 should hopefully be ready about as quick as this one was.


	4. Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione takes herself by surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone following along with this, sorry for the delay with this chapter, it was a very tricky one to get right.

She could hear him saying her name. He sounded far away through the blood pounding in her ears, but she knew he wasn't.

The instant she felt his hand on her shoulder she kicked out wildly, "Ow! For fuck's sake, Granger..." 

The scuffle didn't last long. He got into her space in no time, his hand quickly back on her shoulder, much more firmly this time, forcing her back down into the chair she barely got an inch out of. He was so close that all she could see was his torso, and she was kicking out again, but all it achieved this time was to give him openings to deftly step further into her space, pinning one of her knees against the inside of the armrest with his own knee, and then the other.

She was hitting his arm to try and get his hand off her shoulder, but it didn't work, and she wasn't thinking even close to straight enough to realise just how vulnerable her position was now, her legs locked open and with him very much in between them.

Not that she had time to think. As soon as her legs were restrained, the hand on her shoulder quickly slid up the back of her neck to the base of her skull and took a fist full of her thick mess of hair at the scalp.

He pulled down hard, arching her neck back uncomfortably and irresistibly, and he put his weight behind pushing her head backwards, his fist and the top of her head thudding into the back of the chair, her body dragged back with it into slouch. Locked down and going nowhere.

With her face horizontal and him now looming over her, there wasn't much more she could see other than his face, but almost the instant her head hit the chair, she could see his free hand go from his face to hers... He spat out a cork, she felt liquid in her mouth, "Swallow." he ordered, but she already had.

His arm swung out to toss the empty vial on the floor, and swung back slapping her hard across her face. Her head hardly moved with her hair in the vice grip of his other hand, so she had to bear the whole brunt of the blow.

For a split second there was nothing in her mind except the flash of light, the loud clap, and the sharp pain on her face. But that split second was enough, everything slowed down for her then. 

She dragged in a ragged breath as if breaching a deep body of water. She blinked away the blur of tears she didn't know she'd cried. And she listened to the little shards of glass tinkling to rest on the floor around their wands.

It was a very relaxing sound, she found, her mind coming to rest along with the remnants of the shattered vial. The Calming Draught quickly worked it's magic in her, the familiar bitter taste on each breath she pulled in.

His face was directly in front of hers, over hers, and just as horizontal. Her eyes caught his as she refocused. All the terrifying lust and violence she saw in them the last time she looked in them was gone, replaced by concern. He was searching her face for something. 

"Granger? Everything's alright... You were having a panic attack... It's OK, I've got you..." 

She somewhat awkwardly looked around to take in her new situation, tried to move her head for a better look, but found she couldn't, which didn't help the awkwardness.

"Yes... I can see that." Only a tiny bit sarcastically. The concern on his face replaced by relief and a twitch of a smile.

"I didn't mean to scare you that much... I'm sorry." The short lived relief replaced by a pained looked.

"That's OK." She thought out loud, more than a little taken aback by the apology. "Anything you want for one night, that was the deal, right?"

"Well, I didn't want _that_." Still tightly holding her head back like he wasn't quite ready to run the risk of letting her go just yet.

"Don't worry," She cut in, "I don't think it was a panic attack, just... Nearly one, maybe."

"Good. I thought you were... You're a little unpredictable."

" _I'm_ unpredictable?! How about picking a tone and sticking with it for more than two minutes..." Indignantly reaching up and sweeping away a few wayward curls that had stuck to the cooling sweat on her brow, both the potion and his lack of aggression making her not worry about saying what came to mind.

Touching her face made her realise how much it was still throbbing from the slap, and using her arms, the only free part of her body, really drove home just how unfree the rest of her was. And she found she liked the feeling of it. The warm contact of his overpowering legs against the inside of her own, and the little waves of sleepy pleasure from the back of her scalp every time she moved her head a fraction to speak.

"Fair point, I'll stick with this one then... For more than two minutes." She could feel his body moving when he laughed the same gentle and attractive laugh she'd heard for the first time earlier, and the movement of it caused the same problem from earlier too, only much more directly. The cooling effect of having her legs held open made her feel the new warmth between them even more keenly than before, the pressure above her pussy growing quickly this time. She snapped at it... Again? Really? You're a little traitor, you know that?

As usual, she tried to distract herself by trying to make logical sense of things.

"But, how is panic an unpredictable reaction to a rape threat?" He flinched at the word, and though it was so slight that she probably wouldn't have noticed it had his face not been, as it was, directly in front of hers, it was definitely a flinch. And again, she was surprised, this time at his apparent squeamishness.

"Well... It wasn't _really_ a threat, or worded as one either, wasn't meant to be taken quite so literally. I was following you and twisting up your own words..." It sounded like he'd caught himself, like that wasn't the end of the sentence, but she was intrigued and wanted him to carry on.

"Wait, what do you mean? What were you doing?" Not even trying to hide her curiosity, but he gave her a look like a muggle magician who was just asked how his magic trick worked.

"A bit hard to explain... And even if it wasn't, it's bit like explaining a joke. Can take the fun out of it." He, a little indignantly, replied. His grip on her hair loosened a little as he spoke, like he was starting to trust her not to go wild again. But she found, oddly, that the little waves of pleasure created by his grip there only grew bigger with a looser grip.

"Don't worry, none of this was very funny to start with." The slight smile that came with her bit of snarkiness hurt her jaw, and she didn't want to think about why the thought of that slap, and the ache of it, shot straight downwards.

"Another good point... But alright, since you're so interested. You seemed to be getting overwhelmed, so I slowed it down and gave you the reins. Since we sat down I was just answering your questions and letting you lead. Mostly, anyway. I saw you trying to make me step back and then, I'm assuming, were hoping I'd see things from a different angle that was more favourable to you. It was a good idea, good enough that I thought you knew what you were doing with it."

He looked her face up and down as if to double check something, then let all the tension in his arm go, slowly lowering her down so she could lie more comfortably on the seat of the chair, her head and shoulders propped up on the back of it instead of his hand. He straightened himself upright, but he didn't let her legs go, still pinning them to the armrests of the chair with his own. As much as she enjoyed the unusual feeling of him having had control of her head like that, she decided, she also very much enjoyed getting that control back too. She rolled her neck to stretch it out after being stuck in the one uncomfortable position for a little too long.

He continued, "But since I saw it, I thought I'd have some fun with it by countering, ruin your plans by twisting it all up at the last minute. Basically, I thought it'd slowed down enough for you to play, and I was just playing along with you, going where you were taking things, and that you'd have countermeasures of your own... But I guess not."

"Very interesting." She replied quietly, but honestly. It really was all fascinating to her, but she didn't have much more to add because she was at this point quite distracted, by a couple of things. Mainly by the realisation, while he was speaking, that he must be able to see straight up her skirt now. Now her head was free, she could see it had ridden up from having her legs forced open. She'd resisted the urge to do anything about it as soon as she saw, beyond swallowing the humiliation, reminding herself that she knew he was going to see... _things_.

But she was also distracted by what she could see from her new angle too. At some point his black shirt had become untucked from his black trousers, and the very noticeably contrasting pale band of his lower abdomen that was now exposed, and at eye level, was just as chiselled as she'd feared it would be when she first saw him the night before.

"It's not often I misread something like that. Not often at all... That _is_ very interesting." The way he looked at her like she was both something special and something that didn't make sense gave her a strange sense of pride. "And I've just realised, you won that battle... Here we are outside of the situation. What was your next step?"

"Was just hoping I'd be competent enough to improvise I suppose." Again, the motion of his laughter made it impossible to ignore the fact that there was a physically, and mentally, very powerful man standing right between her legs. A gorgeous man, who wanted her... Who, she was starting to allow herself to admit, she wanted too. Her fresh blush felt hotter on one side, which reminded her, "So what was the slap for?"

"For kicking me in the shin." He said quite seriously.

"Oh right, yeah, I did do that, didn't I? Sorry..." 

"That... And it makes the Draught work quicker." Smiling that smile that wasn't a smirk, but it didn't unnerve her any more.

"Huh, really? I didn't know that." He looked at her like he found it funny that she seemed to now want a discussion on the efficacies of potions while in a predicament like theirs.

"Fuck me, something Granger didn't know." He laughed again, and again the movement shook her all the way up to her hips. "Though to be fair, it's only really something you discover if you're into both recreational substance abuse and slapping people for fun..."

They both laughed at that. Even though the force he was pushing her legs out with had eased up a little, apparently now reassured she wasn't going to fly off the handle again, all that movement between her legs was becoming unbearable. Her hips were rolling against her will, only minute involuntary movements, but enough to feel just how wet she'd become, and to feel the frictionless gliding of her lips against each other. She was just glad he was either not paying attention to her fidgeting hips, or choosing to ignore it. I'm going to have to get up, she thought, if he keeps moving like that... 

The new connection between them wasn't lost on her, she suspected it was the bond that can come after a shared trauma. Not that it was much of a trauma, she thought, but she was hurt by the near panic attack and he was hurt by accidentally causing it. They'd shared a painful experience and that was, apparently, enough to bring them a little closer together.

Nor was it lost on her that he might be gaslighting her. That this might all be part of some even more elaborate head game, that he might _still_ be playing her even now, she wouldn't put it past his morals or his capabilities. But she decided not to question him about it, feeling that what he'd said had made enough sense for her not to worry too much about it being manipulation. And that it might be a contentious enough question to break their new bond, which wasn't worth risking for an answer that didn't matter that much to her. He'd already made her want him, what did it matter now which way he did it?

But the pause they'd both been happy to sit in, apparently both wondering where to go from here, was going on too long, so she broke the stalemate.

"What happens now then?" She asked with a gentle, careful voice, trying to push away all the thoughts of their new connection, of her accepting that she wanted him, and whether or not he had made her feel those things against her will using nothing much more than the power of his own will... And of what all those things, when added up, were doing to the hunger between her hips.

"Well, I've got a question for you for a change... What caused this?" Her whole body tensed so rapidly that she let out a tiny squeak, because as he asked his question he brushed the backs of his fingers up the inside of her thigh, all the way up under her skirt, and then, even lighter still, up the wet gusset of her knickers.

But his hand didn't stop moving up, moving her skirt even further up. He slowly leaned right over at the same time, practically on top of her, propping himself up on his other hand under the mane of hair beside her head, the hand touching her finally stopping at the crook of her hip, on the knickers, his thumb stroking gently near the waistband. She leaned into the touch automatically. She didn't seem to have much of a choice in what her lower-half did any more.

His face was closer to hers than it had ever been, and she was far too preoccupied with resisting the urge to lift her head a little further to kiss him to think of an answer to his question. Luckily, he didn't seem to be expecting one.

"It's quite a relief." He said, just above a whisper.

He continued after seeing the confusion in her face, and apparently wanting her to understand. "I wasn't lying before. I really have begun to hate having everything given to me... This is my first time trying to solve that problem. With someone _not_ giving me everything willingly." The hand on her hip moved inwards and downwards, and her mind shut down while her body spasmed at the suddenness of there only being wet cotton between her pussy and his palm. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth not wanting to squeak again, and not knowing what else to do with them. "But you didn't give me this willingly." 

He toyed with the warm slick her knickers were doused in for a moment, unrushed but still only a moment, before his hand moved upwards, gliding all the way up and snaking its way under the waistband back down. His fingers moved slowly down the width of her lips, parted them, and still moving down he dipped his middle finger into her very ready hole. She was at this point incapable of thinking of anything other than the hand intruding her so casually, and how she needed more. More of his hand, more _than_ his hand...

But that was only for a moment too, as soon as he was deep enough to tease the soft spot on her front wall, he was pulling out and upwards again, just as slowly. And his palm kept moving upwards flat against her until the tip of his finger was in a position where he could use the warmer wetness now on it to trace tiny, torturously slow, circles around her clit. It only took a matter of seconds, his palm never having lost contact with her, but that simple and quick touch was all it took to reduce her to thoughtlessness.

The circles he drew were just the right light-pressure to make the muscles in her abdomen jump up and down, her breath jumping along with it. She whimpered a quiet " _Fuck._ " from behind her hand, and he continued to explain himself as if he wasn't doing anything at all, as if he wasn't ruining her. 

"I knew I was never going to want to use much force, if any, to get what I wanted. To get something that wasn't given. So it's a relief to have not had to use _any,_ beyond the blackmail. But mainly, of course, it's a relief to finally get what I wanted. This," He pressed more pressure into the latest little circle to emphasize his point, her body bucked down into the chair, his voice still just above whispered, "This is what I wanted..."

He took his hand away and her hips rocked upward to chase it, such a brief touch not being nearly enough after all the build up. But he didn't notice the pained look on her face, he was entranced by his hand that was now between them, in front of both their faces. The pads of his fingers were soaked and heavy with her scent.

"You didn't give this to me, I took it. It's all mine." He seemed to be saying it more to himself than to her, entranced by the juice between his fingers. He brought it up to his mouth and closed his eyes while he tasted the little piece of her that he'd taken from her. 

"And I think that's enough for me." He said, opening his eyes, gently cradling her chin, and giving her a tender kiss. She could taste herself on his lips as he breathed the words "Thank you..." against hers.

And then he was gone. The suddenness of him getting up and walking away, along with the strange mix of the physical relief of her legs finally being freed, and the horribly cold abrupt absence of him on her, made her take a second to gather her wits. That can't be it, she thought, wait...

"Wait." She blurted out not having had any time to think about what she was going to say next. She scrambled upright in her chair, openly confused. "Don't... I don't want you to go."

He was only a few steps away, he stopped, and looked back over his shoulder at her.

"I got what I wanted, Granger. Your secret's safe. You're free to go now." The finality of his words stung.

"But... But you only just started, I don't understand..." He turned a little to face her more directly.

"Exactly, I barely started, and look at you... You nearly had a fucking heart attack before I even touched you. I'm not interested in damaging you. I got what I wanted, and truly, I'm grateful."

She was getting frustrated at not having the right words to reply, and at having been put on the spot to have to come up with them at all, so she was grateful too when he seemed to see that and continued.

"I'm sure it didn't escape your notice, but I was never very likely to go to the Prophet with your secret. I couldn't do that without them also finding out that I've blackmailed you, a crime I'm not exactly going to be throwing out there for no good reason... So don't worry, your secret's as safe as it ever was."

She was more than a little embarrassed to admit to herself that it had in fact escaped her notice. She'd been so caught up trying to deal with the position he'd put her in, that she hadn't really considered the position he'd put himself in, not that she was going to tell him that.

"I'm not worried about that, not right now anyway..." She admitted, the slight hint of pleading in her voice. His eyes narrowed at her.

"Granger... I've blackmailed you here, you've had a panic attack, and I've drugged you. Things are getting a bit out of hand, don't you think? I've brought you back down gently, and now it's time to go home."

"Well, it barely even counts as blackmail now since you can't use the information you have. It was only _nearly_ a panic attack. And I'd hardly go as far as to call a Calming Draught _drugged..._ I mean, I'll have one with breakfast sometimes." She was very pleased with herself at getting her wits back so quickly, and at how he was actually looking the tiniest bit convinced by what she said.

"How can I trust you not to react like that again? How can you trust yourself for that matter. You don't want that."

"It doesn't matter what I want, the deal was a night of anything _you_ want... _That's_ what I want." It made more sense in her head than when she heard it out loud, but he seemed to get it.

"Look..." She started again, deciding to try being open about it, instead of clever about it, hoping that would make more sense to him. "I don't... I'm not very experienced with this kind of situation, I don't know what I'm supposed to do or say... to make you..." She trailed off not having the right words. But again, he seemed to understand.

He turned to face her fully, and eyed her up and down, some of the lust back in his narrowed eyes, and they lingered on her lap a little longer than the rest of her. She noticed, and it gave her an idea.

What the fuck are you thinking, Herminone? A small part of her mind rebelling against the idea, and few of her other doubts chimed in with it. Is this all gaslighting? Has he made me feel like I should do this? Has he really got that much control over me? But she ignored it all, the much larger part of her was far too lost in thoughts of needing him back on her, and back in her... That need was overpowering all the other feelings layered on top of each other, including the confusion as to why the need was there at all.

She hoped nervously that his look really was the signal she took it for as she leaned back low in the chair. Head dipped, eyes wide and locked on him, she very gingerly spread her legs for him. She paused, took a quick breath to steel herself, then pulled her wet knickers to one side.

"You did this to me..." She touched her wet opening with her other hand and then held up her glistening fingertips as if to hand it to him.

"And it's your victory." Whatever the expression on his face was, something between lust and fury, it was taking him over again.

"This is _yours._ " Her plan seemed to be working all too well, and her nervousness quickly dialled itself up into fear, but she was nothing if not courageous...

"So come here... and _take_ it."

He exploded into action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :)


	5. Yes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione pieces things together.

It hardly took more than a second for him to take the few steps towards her and close the short distance between them, but a number of things happened in that second, and all of them took her by surprise. 

Both ends of the rope that was on the floor behind him, that she'd nearly forgotten about, shot past him, whistling like arrows and flying straight at her. Each end wound its way around one of her wrists, one each, and while securing themselves in place they yanked her arms upwards, dragging the rest of her body with them, up out of her seat and into a very unsteady standing position. The rope stopped pulling up as soon as her arms were stretched up vertically, wrists together high above her head, and it stilled itself as if it were firmly attached to something, but it was just floating in the air.

As she was reaching full height, his hand reached out and gripped her throat just under her jaw, and he pulled her up the rest of the way while the rope was coming to a stop. He took the final step back into her space, both of them stopping at the exact same time, her upward and him forwards, just inches away from each other. He looked livid.

His other hand, that had just been so gentle with her pussy, too gentle, pushed its way back up under her skirt the instant she was upright. But he wasn't gentle this time, he gripped her firmly and pushed upwards with enough force to almost lift her off her feet. He squeezed, and it was both satisfying and painful with how sensitive she was. It almost felt like she was balancing on his hand.

And all of this happened in the time it took for her to gasp at it happening.

Her feet were on the floor, but even after finding her footing, it still felt like she was being held up by her wrists, pussy, and throat.

"Is this what you want, Granger?" The old spite back in his voice, but his words were strangely slow compared to the urgency of his actions. He squeezed a little harder as he said her name.

The heel of his palm was putting so much force on the front of her while his fingertips dug into the back of her lips. The coolness and the grip of his hand at every point in between was already unignorable, but when his hand started moving, it made her whole lower half squirm. He wasn't moving over the surface, just moving against her with irregular patterns of pressure. It felt like he was trying mould her into a different shape.

She didn't have an answer for him. She was too busy trying, and failing, to take in her very new and very present predicament while his hand made it impossible to think.

She pulled down against the rope a little, it didn't budge in the slightest, but she didn't think it would. _His hand..._ Just how vulnerable her whole body now was with her arms locked up above her was palpable and undeniable, and that feeling fluttered straight down to her... _His fucking hand..._

She quickly gave up. She turned her head to the side and nestled her face into one of her arms, the arms framing her head being the only comforting and safe thing she could find. But he didn't seem to approve of her finding some comfort. The hand on her throat forced its way around, gripped the side of her neck over the back of her jaw, and pulled her head to face forward.

"You need to understand this. You're right about one thing... _This_ ," Again punctuating his words with the hand between her legs, making her half-heartedly try to pull away from the sharper grip, his tone venomous and so familiar, her old enemy.

"Is mine. And just winning it was going to be enough for me... An act of decency, generosity, and self control on my part which you're not only completely unthankful for, but then have the fucking gall to throw back in my face by flaunting _this_..." He hissed, his punctuation was cruel this time, she screwed her eyes up tight against the pain and successfully stifled a scream.

"You ungrateful little slut." The hand still on the side of her neck didn't move as the thumb shifted down to her mouth, brushing her lips, toying with them, parting them. It somehow felt more intrusive than the rough kneading of his other hand, but he didn't even seem to notice he was doing it. 

"You also need to understand what you've done by throwing yourself at my feet like that. I mean, you're literally asking for it, Granger. If I break you, and I've got no reason to bother trying not to now, then you've only got yourself to blame." She was barely listening.

She couldn't tell if there really was a pattern to the movement of his hand, but her body seemed to be picking up on one, and riding it. She only realised she was doing it when she started to feel the beginnings of the swell of an oncoming orgasm.

He's already humiliated me so much tonight, she vaguely reasoned with herself, cumming in his hand from so little is hardly going to make a difference now... He seemed to notice what was happening but his possessive massaging didn't miss a beat. He just smirked and continued talking a little softer.

"And you're right about another thing too... I do want you. And since you _clearly_ want to be my little play thing for the night..." The quick release of her pussy made her legs falter. It also, of course, completely broke the stride of the building orgasm she was going to allow herself if he hadn't stopped. She was starting to get an indistinct and general feeling of hating it when he stopped.

"Then you also need to understand what you're getting yourself into. I'm not Weasley or Potter. I'm not going to be kind, and gentle, and caring... Just because I can be, and just because I was for you when you needed it, that doesn't mean I get any satisfaction out of it. And trust me when I say that if I do decide to have you tonight then I'll be aiming to get as much satisfaction out of you as I can... I'm not going to make love to you, I'm going to _fuck_ you. And I'm going to make it hurt, because I _want_ it to hurt. I'm going to fuck you, and I'm going to hurt you, until you scream. Do you understand?"

Again, she didn't have an answer for him, her ability to concentrate was in tatters. Even the rhythm of his voice was hypnotic.

The thumb in her mouth shifted down under the tip of her chin and lifted her head a little. His other hand finding the zip on her skirt, pulling it down, and letting it fall to the floor around her feet. Then finding her knickers yet again, but differently this time.

He pushed his way underneath them, in through the hem of one leg and out the other, right across the front, the back of his hand against her hair. He gripped the front face of them in his fist, bunching the fabric up tightly. 

He made sure their eyes were locked when he started to very slowly slide the back of his fist upwards against her in the direction of her navel. She felt the soaked fabric shifting behind her and under her, the tightness of it getting worse and worse as he slowly moved it higher and higher.

The indignity of it was hitting her as hard as the now cord like fabric was hurting her. It was sinking deeper and deeper between her lips and the coarseness of it being dragged against her, tighter and tighter, was biting into her already horribly sensitive skin there.

Every bit of what he was doing to her was degrading and humiliating, but just as they did before, those feelings travelled down to her pussy just as much as they went up to warm her blushing cheeks, only much worse this time.

That alone was enough to dull her usually over-active mind, but on top of that was the more physical, very direct, attention of the fabric between her lips. Having been made to wait for that direct attention, that she'd been craving, only made the pleasure of finally getting it much stronger.

The way that attention and pleasure was applied with something that was also causing her pain and humiliation made all those sensations mix strangely, confusingly, and incredibly intensely for such a simple act.

"Answer me. Do you understand?" His voice managed to pull her out of herself enough to answer, but his hand was still pulling upwards, the pressure and movement of the cloth cord against her quickly becoming too much. She'd lifted her heels, stood up on tiptoes, to try to take some of the stress off. She had no idea how the fabric hadn't torn already. 

"Yes..." Practically a whisper. His hand stopped instantly and held its place, but her hips didn't stop, couldn't stop.

She had more to say but was finding it worryingly difficult to string any thoughts together into a sentence. She was trying to think of a less pathetic way of saying, _please don't stop, I_ _don't want you to stop, do anything you want, just don't stop like you did before. I'd hate it if you walked away from me again, please don't do that to me again._

"Do what you want with me, just don't... Please, don't do _nothing._ " With a quiet voice was the best she could manage. He looked thoughtful for a moment, still holding her gaze, the twin fires flickering in his eyes. The cruelty in his tone had diminished a little and he seemed to perfectly understand her fumbled words.

He leaned in and kissed her. A deep and passionate lovers' kiss, and she kissed him back just the same. Their tongues found each other while the hand on her neck moved around to the front and gripped her by the throat again, and with just enough force to make her head feel light, he pulled her in deeper to their kiss.

She leaned into it automatically, as best she could with her arms still immobile above her, and she did that purely because he pulled her forward, indicating that he wanted her to... This new desire in her to please him and to give him what he wanted didn't go unnoticed by her. Being so astute had its upsides.

Even though she was barely able to string together a sentence in her current state, her mind did the small feat of mental gymnastics required to realise that to really give him what he wants, she'd have to _not_ give him what he wants. He'd spelt it out enough for her over the evening, but the new conscious desire to please him was the final piece of the puzzle. She really understood now how what he'd been telling her worked, how she fit into it, and how her part to play in it could work so perfectly for them both, in their own separate ways, to get exactly what they each needed. It all fit together for her now, all falling neatly into place while they kissed.

All the books focused on submissiveness, she thought, but he doesn't want passive obedience like that, he wants forceful oppression... He'd like to hurt me, but he _wants_ a reason to do it... Don't just give him a willingness to take it, give him a _reason_ to give it, _that's_ what he wants. Don't give it to him on a plate. Make him work for it, fight for it, try to stop him, don't give in... _That's_ what I need to do. He'll like that. _I'll_ like that...

The feeling of being off the edge of the map, her research having not covered much about this way of thinking, was exciting. She'd have to think on her feet now. She had another bright idea, but didn't think about it for more than a moment. She knew she might back out if she thought too much about the possible consequences, so she just did it, quickly. 

She bit down hard, really hard, on his lower lip.

" _Fuck._ " He growled, sucking in through his teeth while pulling his head back to the side. He pushed her back a little by the throat at the same time, choking her harder. His other hand didn't flinch though, still as steady as a rock, and still practically holding her up by the front of her knickers.

He turned back to face her, a drop of the blood she could taste dripped down his chin, stark against his pale skin, the fury and lust poured out of him and filled the room. But she could see something else too, a little of the same admiration and respect that she couldn't quite place when she saw it in him earlier, only this time it made perfect sense to her.

"Clever girl..." He whispered, and even though he was staring straight into her wide eyes, it sounded like he wasn't talking to her. She didn't say anything, it wasn't the reaction she was expecting, as usual. Although a little confused, she was quite content to pause in the unpredicted peacefulness that biting him had seemed to cause in him.

She was still squirming her hips, as much as she dared to, against the taut cord in his hand, while she admired the suggestive way he was slowly sucking his bottom lip in as if he was tasting the blood, until he inhaled through his nose and spat that blood in her face.

She recoiled from the physical shock of it, but it took a second for what he'd just done to register. He just spat in my face... She thought, numbly. Once it sank in, she couldn't believe that he'd done it. Or how insulting, and spiteful, and degrading it was.

She thought he'd already humiliated her to the point where it couldn't get any worse, so she could take any more of it he had to give, but she was very wrong about that. That simple, disgusting, demeaning act, on top of everything else, pushed her down even further and seemed to just keep pushing, the warm spit and blood running down her face being a continuous reminder, not letting her move on.

She barely felt anything other than the absolute powerlessness of her situation in that moment, it felt like he could do any revolting thing he wanted to her and she couldn't stop him. Her self-pity was making her stomach drop in slow motion, dropping all the way down to the need between her hips, and she couldn't believe that either.

Her eyes welled and spilled over, her tears mixing with the spit and blood on her face, but she didn't sob. Quiet tears of despair, less from being treated so disgracefully or from her helpless situation, and more from the fact that, on some level that she didn't quite understand, she seemed to enjoy it.

"That's the last kiss you're getting tonight." Leaning into snarl in her wet face. "Anywhere you have teeth, at least."

 _Don't give in..._ The words floated through her mind.

"Go fuck yourself, psycho..." She said quietly, finding a fearlessness in her misery. 

She then spat loudly in his face.

The openly appalled and shocked look on his face made her lips the ones to curl up smugly for a change. The hand on her throat let go and he wiped away the spit, looking at it on his fingers in utter disbelief.

When his eyes snapped back to hers the reality of what she'd done hit her, but she didn't have much time to worry about the consequences, because he conjured something far more worrying than she would have thought up.

In the hand covered in her spit, right in front of her face, a small and very deadly looking knife appeared... The consequence. 

As soon as he'd seen that she saw the knife in it, his hand quickly dropped down out of sight. Her misery forgotten in an instant, the raw animal panic shot her up out of the pit she was in so quickly it made her dizzy. 

_Fuck fuck fuck._ Was all she had time to think while the urgent and desperate ice cold fear-for-her-life flooded her stomach. 


End file.
